Broken Glass
by aCommonLaw-ANON-fromLJ
Summary: Filling a prompt from LJ. Warnings maybe any of the following in the prompt. "Someone sees Wes at a bar or where ever, really follows him and attacks him..." Read full prompt inside. WARNINGS: mentions of non-con.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Filling a prompt on LJ**

**PROMPT (ignore bolds, lines, italics in prompt, that's for me):**

I've noticed there are no Non-con prompts here yet. Allow me to fix sees Wes at a bar (or where ever, really) follows him and attacks him. Said person/people had no idea who he was or what he did for a living, they just thought he was pretty and he was alone. He's (likely) not their first victim. Cue all the insuing angst that this type of attack causes.I'd prefer if there was **no chance (or way) for Wes to hide what happened**. He wasn't able to just get up and walk away, he needed **hospitalization. **And **probably needs to stay with someone **after, too... **(If you have the attack happen in his car or hotel, he'll probably never want to see it again, in my opinion). **How he reacts to what happened is really up to the filler. Does he **get suicidal or self-destructive? Try to act like nothing happened? Get even more controling and OCD as a coping mechanism? Scream and cry and throw things (at Travis)? Panic attacks and PTSD? All or some combination of the above?***Shrugs*I don't really care how graphic or not you make the attack, the **recovery** is my favorite part of fics like this, so whatever the filler is comfortable with is fine!Gen, pre-slash or established relationship, whatever the filler likes, **but no MCOH please**. I kinda dislike (hate) fics that have the victim bouncing back like a daisy after something like this happens. **Realistic reaction and recovery times are win.***G*

**Warnings maybe any of the following in the prompt. If you do not like this type of prompt, I suggest you turn around, and browse away. *May be pre-slash. Mentions of rape, no graphic depiction. With stories like these, characters will seem OOC from time to time, especially the beginning.  
**

Broken Glass

Chapter 1

The evening was just slipping into the night and Wes had realized he had been sitting at the bar stool for well over two hours. He and Travis had been working on the toughest case they had been assigned all month. He needed a place to think without Travis looming over him, and the last place Travis would look, would be the first place Wes would be.

Wes Mitchell hadn't ordered anything but a coke and a side of fries. He sat, nibbling on his snack as he thought deeply about his case. A rapist; dark brown hair and a little over six feet, targets female blondes at nightclubs or bars. He instinctively scanned the area with attentive eyes, but slowly let his guard drop when there were no potential victims.

The culprit wouldn't hit this spot.

Wes sighed, pinching the bridged of his nose as hard as he could, as a man took the adjacent seat.

"Hey there." The man spoke with an amiable ring to his voice. He eyed Wes, taking in the perfect smooth skin and the toned body under the fashionable suit and tie. He was going to be one fine piece of prey. "Long day at work?" The man continued, noticing Wes' distress.

"Yeah, a little." Wes replied without a smile, sliding off the bar stool. He straightened his suit, tucking his dress shirt back into his pants before leaving a dollar next to his glass.

"Where you going?"

"Home." The ex-lawyer called out, not in the mood to make a serious conversation "I've been here for too long, doing nothing." He quickly finished and excused himself, leaving the bar all together. This was the reason why his co-workers didn't enjoy to converse with Wes, if it wasn't cases or crimes, Wes wasn't concerned. As he stood outside his slick black vehicle, he wiped his hands on his pants before reaching for his car keys. Opening the door to his car, he heard the familiar sound of a gun click behind him.

"Unlock the passenger's door." The voice demanded lowly.

The blond exhaled heavily. "Alright." Wes replied calmly, slowly reaching for the button on the driver's door. Foot steps walked around him and he watched with a fixed gaze as the gunman walked around the his car, keeping his gun pointed at Wes the entire time. As his captor took his seat, he waved his gun, motioning for Wes to take his seat too.

"So instead of being a real man and asking me out on a date, you followed me?"

"Shut up and drive behind that building, four blocks down." The man demanded, pushing the barrel of the weapon to the side of the blonde's head.

Wes started the car and pressed gently on the gas pedal. His alert eyes would wander to the large fingers wrapped around the weapon, but a shove to the side of his forehead kept his eyes glued to the road.

"You know, putting a gun to my head won't make me drive any faster." He felt the press harder against his skin, and was able to hear the muscles tightening around the handle. "Okay, okay." He breathed out. "I'm driving."

He pulled into an alleyway as directed while strategizing a possible opening. He saw the man lower his gun slightly, and went for an elbow to his captor's cheekbone. However, his aim was skewed and the man whipped Wes' face mercilessly with the steel.

His vision blurred, as he felt his seat being pulled back, and his attacker crawled on top of him. Wes could see a glint of metal shine against the slightest bit of light that shone through the windows and he shut his eyes. _This is it._

He heard a clank and a click, and he shot his eyes opened as soon as it happened. _I'm not dead?_ He looked around, still seeing his assaulter looming over him. He tried lifting his arms, only to realize they were cuffed to the bottom bars of his seat.

"What the hell," Wes grunted as he tugged with futile effort. "Who are you?"

"Former cop from the NYPD." The brown haired man spoke lazily as he pressed his cheek against the smaller man beneath him.

"Don't be joking. I could have you arrested."

The brute man pressed his palm at the lower ends of Wes' belly, running his invasive hands downwards to the base. He grinned with sadistic intentions, slurring. "but I'll make sure you'll never tell."

CLCLCLCLCL

Travis Marks drove along the streets, pausing at stop lights, and driving on the greens. Wes wasn't at his favorite restaurant or his regular park bench, not at work, not at home… not with Alex either. He sighed as he pulled over to check his phone, frowning when Wes never replied to his texts or calls.

He didn't stress with Wes didn't respond, but he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed when he was purposely being ignored. Pulling up to his local bar, he began to type up another text message. A second after he hit send, he leaned against his motorcycle as the feeling of boredom began to set in.

He heard a vibration ring against his feet and he looked down, staring at the face of his own text message. Bending over, he picked up the phone, turning the device in his hands and quickly realized it belonged to his partner.

"Wes." Travis murmured, slipping the phone into his own pocket.

He leapt back onto his motorcycle and began to drive with more vigilant watch. His eyes scanned through the license plates of any dark vehicle as he dialed Captain Sutton on his phone.

"Hello?"

"Captain, it's Travis." He shouted over the noise of his bike. "I found Wes' phone on the floor, I think he's in trouble."

"Or, Travis, he just dropped it." His superior responded. "Did you call his home phone?"

"I tried everything. I can't find him anywhere… wait… I see his car." Travis replied with a cautious tone as he registered the plate from memory. He parked his motorcycle neatly against the curb, hopping off it with ease. With his field instincts kicking in, he moved swiftly, but silently, avoiding anything that could make a sound beneath him.

Travis peaked into the vehicle, finding his partner with eyes shut tightly and shallow breaths leaving his nose. Hands cuffed beneath his seat, articles of clothing missing from the blond's bare body, and bruises already forming over cuts; Travis spoke into his phone, "Captain, send me an ambulance, four north blocks from Barry's Bar."

He hung up and made his way to the driver's side door. He yanked at the handle, and glared at the car when the door didn't budge. Cupping his hands around his eyes, he peered inside, only to find all the doors locked and the keys sitting on the passenger seat.

With nothing of use around him except for the pipe on the floor, Travis picked up the cold piece of iron in his hands and leapt over to the passenger side door. Using all the strength he could muster up, he rammed the pipe into the window, unlocking the door as the glass shattered. He quickly lifted the keys off the seat as he got inside and shut down the car's alarm system.

Travis didn't want to, but he knew he would have to face him. He turned to his partner, and gently placed a hand on the man's bare shoulder, careful not to touch any wounds. "Wes." He whispered.

"God, no more…" Wes pleaded as he opened his eyes at the bare minimum.

"It's alright man, I'm gonna' get you outta' here." Travis reassured, pulling a set of keys out of the glove compartment. Surprise caught him off guard as he replayed the helplessness in the tone of Wes' voice, and the keys almost slipped from his grasp. He slid the keys into the handcuffs, only to learn that they would not fit. He cursed under his breath, searching the car's floor in hopes of a paperclip.

But of course not a paperclip was found. Wes was the King of Cleans after all.

"Wes, who did this to you?" Travis asked with urgency.

"I-I can't…" Wes choked, head turned away with too much shame to face his partner. "Oh god…" he spoke, voice cracking and terribly sore.

Wes shut his eyes tightly, and took a sharp inhale.

"Wes! What's the matter?"

_Slut._

"Sto-pp it."

Travis reached over to his partner, his fingertips barely grazing white skin cells.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Wes screamed as loudly as he could. Pain took over his throat again and his voice made a few crackling noises before it left him completely. "D'nt 'ch- me…"

Travis immediately pulled his fingers back, unsure how to deal with the situation.

A dim flash of red and blue shone through the windows and the blaring sirens from squad cars and the ambulance came through. Travis left the car and turned to the Captain who first came to view.

"Travis, what happened?" Captain Sutton quickly asked.

"Captain, I need a lock picking kit, a paperclip, anything that can pick handcuffs." Travis stated as efficiently, watching as his superior waved off an officer to fetch the supplies. He led Sutton over to Wes' car, and the Captain was immediately taken back.

"Travis-"

"I don't know." The taller man responded grimly, taking the lock picking kit that was promptly handed to him. He got back into the car with gloved hands and Captain Sutton watching behind him. He lowered himself slowly to Wes' hand.

"St' 'way…" Wes huffed, pulling agitatedly against his restraints.

"Wes, it's Travis." His partner assured, speaking in a more soothing manner. "It's Travis, see. Look."

Innocent blue eyes turned with tears built at the bases. Wes gulped and released a shaky breath from his panicked stated, nodding as he accepted his partner's presence. He instinctively pulled away when Travis' dark skin grazed his pale hand. "Sorry." The blond murmured.

"Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong."

_Just stay still. You're doing fine._

Wes' body jerked inwards as he took another heavy breath and Travis ceased his movements.

"You okay?"

Wes nodded and Travis continued as smoothly as possible. Marks couldn't help but to notice the damaged Wes had sustained to his fingers. His fingernails were chipped from clawing beneath his seat, exposing the sensitive skin from underneath. They no longer bled, but they were one of the many things that would have to be bandaged.

He wasn't surprised to find that the other hand had endured the same fate, handing the cuffs to evidence. A blanket soon came, and Travis wrapped the security blanket around Wes' bare body. "Ready to go?" He asked.

Wes shook his head negatively.

"Can you walk?" Travis questioned, still with a calming voice. His words were confident as he spoke, but his eyes were saddened when he received the same response. "I'm going to have to lift you, that okay?"

Wes nodded.

"Alright then." Travis gently carried his partner in both his arms while reminding him of how he took care of his foster siblings, when they were frightened. He could feel Wes' hair dig into his chest, and how his partner clutched tightly against the fabric of his dark t-shirt, as if all bad things could go away if he held on hard enough.

Travis felt his teardrops sink into his shirt by the time he reached the ambulance, and he tenderly set Wes inside. He tossed the keys to his motorcycle to Captain Sutton, nudging his head in the direction of his bike, turning away as Sutton nodded to the silent statement.

He headed himself into the medical van and took a seat as the paramedics shut the van's doors and ambulance took off, blaring sirens overhead.

Travis wiped his running nose as he sat in silence, watching as Wes's weary eyes eventually fell from exhaustion.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: After mapping out the rest of the story, there's no slash, just extreme bromance in which you can squint at and interpret in anyway you'd like.**

**Thanks for reading, reviewing, faving, and following! It means a lot :D.**

***End of this chapter includes a preview of a upcoming high school Common Law AU fic w/ slash, no smut.**

Broken Glass

Chapter 2

*Note, **bold text** = **writing.**

A week has passed since the incident took place, and Wes had been denying all guest visitation requests, all except one. He needed silence, and alone time, just another minute to focus on the white walls that surrounded him. He tapped the finger monitor clipped to his finger as he laid flatly, finally able to breath without the assists of a mask or nostril tubes, taking in the depressing hospital air and exhaling in one quick puff. He sighed a shaky breath, as his heart began to quicken. The beeping emitted more rapidly, as his sharp sense of hearing heard the door knob turn from the other side.

"Wes?" A sweet and concerned voice gently spoke, with a soft touch that the ex-lawyer had learned to adore. "How are you?"

Wes turned to Alex, and exhaled sharply, clearing his sore throat as he did. _It's just Alex._ He accepted the notepad handed to him with unsteady hands and reached wearingly for the pen on his nightstand.

**Hey.**

"Voice still?"

**Yeah.**

She nodded sadly. Travis had explained the condition they had found her ex-husband in, and her heart sank with every detail given. A rape kit had been performed shortly after Wes had been sedated and the foreign DNA found was being run through the criminal database. She could still see a faint bruise crawl up the blonde's collar bone, but most of the cuts had already begun to heal neatly. Though, she could only fear for the damage done mentally, and the way Wes stared blankly with soulless eyes made her mind cringe with sadness.

Wes forced an exasperated smile, one that the beautiful woman before him returned less gratefully.

"Wes?" Another voice chimed through the room, and Wes gave Alex the most confused look.

**You brought Travis?**

She sighed, replying as if she had no choice. "He wanted to come. You shutting yourself out from everyone isn't healthy. I couldn't say no, Wes." She stroked a loving hand against his smooth cheek and he fell into the touch, intentionally wiping away a tear that built up with her skin.

Alex peered into Wes' quickly masked gaze, and nodded approvingly as he returned with the same motion. She waved her hand towards the dark man standing near the doors, and his unforgotten partner entered, closing the door noiselessly behind him.

Travis pulled up a seat next to Wes' bedside, being sure to give his partner a fair distance. "How you doing man?"

**I'm doing fine.**

"The doctors said you can leave today."

That seemed to have caught Wes' attention fully and his dead eyes shot up with life.

Travis chuckled, "thought you'd like to hear that. I already signed you out. Wheelchair's waiting for you outside, brought you a spare suit too."

**Wheelchair? I can walk fine now.**

"Hospital policies."

Wes grumbled and grabbed the bag his partner handed to him. Unclipping the device from his finger, he strode over to the small, adjoining restroom and locked the door, quickly looking at himself in the mirror. Lifting his neck, he took in the fading bruise and traced shaking fingers over the injury. Air suddenly left his lungs, and he choked to get the air back inside.

He thickly gulped as he pulled the hospital gown over his body and his knees buckled under him. He quickly grabbed onto the porcelain sink with bandaged finger tips for support. Most of his cuts had been patched, but he could still see splotches of purple and blue shades slip through from the wrappings.

Something inside him began to pick at his nerve, and he turned the facet on at the hottest temperature it would provide. Closing his eyes from the mental pain, he pushed his hands under the scorching water and rubbed them together. The wrappings on his fingers began to peel off but Wes continued. With the bar of soap near by, he pressed it against his skin and rubbed it fiercely, his breathing turning into a rapid mess.

All he could feel was hot breaths in the nape of his neck and the taste of scotch in his mouth. He brought a handful of water and smeared it into his face, inhaling with difficulty from his mouth while exhaling as harshly.

He felt dirty, used, and he still remembered. Every little detail, the way his assaulter's fingers traced the contours of his hips…

Wes scratched with nail-less fingers at his bare skin, pulling off the bandage that wrapped around his waist, and he spun around to his right when he felt the thick air skim the edges of his shoulder. He heard the man's voice call out to him.

_Damn, you're fine…_

His mind repeated key words over and over, five times in his mind to be exact before moving to the next solid scene that twisted nightmarishly in his memory.

_Shut up._

_Cunt._

_Shut up._

_Fag._

_Shut up._

_Shut up._

_Shut up._

Five times, he shouted at himself mentally. Five times he shouted at himself mentally. Five times he shouted at himself mentally. Five times he shouted at himself mentally. Five times he shouted at himself mentally.

"Wes? You done?"

His head snapped up and he looked around at tile walls and dim lighting. He quickly grabbed the suit in the bag and put on a pair of boxers, along with the rest of his attire, while trying to calm himself down. Fixing the water's temperature, he splashed a chilling amount onto his face before turning the facet off, and looked at himself with false confidence along with a false sigh of reassurance.

_Get it together._

He opened the door after taking a deep breath and nodded at his friends.

**What are we doing now?**

"Wes, what happened to your bandages?" Alex asked as she noticed the missing wrappings from his finger tips.

**They were itchy.**

Travis shrugged with friendly intentions and a smug look on his face, he spoke, "Well, we have nothing assigned for now. Captain wants us to go to the therapy tomorrow morning, and have a day off before working on any cases."

Wes hid the grateful smile. He was still sore, and was looking forward to a day of relaxation and maybe even a small stack of paperwork. He just didn't want to sit around and be unproductive, he had to keep his mind going, mind going, and going, and going, to forget, to not remember, had to keep the mind going…

**Wait. Why am I wearing my suit?** Wes quickly scribbled, mouth slightly agape.

"Isn't that what you always wear?"

Wes tore the page out of his notepad and crumpled it into a ball before throwing it as his partner. He strode out and ignored the wheelchair waiting for him, that, until Travis reminded him.

"Hospital policies, Wes." Travis reminded tauntingly, pointing at the chair.

Annoyed, the blond sat down grudgingly, arms on the arm rests and feet impatiently pushed against the support. He waited as Travis began to push him outside and he began to tear out writing filled pages from his notepad. He crumbled the used sheets of paper and started throwing it behind him, intentionally pelting his partner with paper balls.

Travis reached over and grabbed the notepad away, and Wes made an audible noise as he stubbornly pouted, crossing his legs in slight defiance.

After successfully pulling out of the hospital, Wes stood up and stretched his arms fully. He took in a breath of fresh air and smiled an appreciative look towards the sky. It was a slightly cloudy day, but the sun still shone when the clouds blew through the wind; he didn't realize how much he missed being outside.

"They had to take your car in for investigation." Travis explained as he clasped a hand over his partner's shoulder.

Wes spun around alert, and took back the notepad from Travis' other hand. **Don't touch me.** He wrote with a glare. **Just take me home.**

CLCLCLCLCL

It took 15 minutes for Wes to calmly take a seat behind Travis on his motorcycle, and about half the time for them to reach the door of familiar hotel. Alex would have volunteered to drive Wes back to his room, but she had an urgent call from her boss.

Travis fished out the keycard from Wes' wallet, opening the door before handing Wes back his belongings.

Wes easily plopped down onto the couch, flipping towards a news station and leaned his neck back, relaxed. The two sat in silence for what felt like en eternity, and his partner shifted uneasily, shrugging his shoulders in a conversation starting manner.

"So…" Travis began. "About last week."

**What about it?**

Travis inwardly sighed as he immediately read his partner's stubborn expression. "Your assault, do you wanna' talk about it?"

**No**

"It's sometimes best to talk about it instead of bottling it up," Travis began, "let someone know what you're thinking, how you feel."

**Did Dr. Ryan tell you that? I'm fine Travis, I was attacked. There's NOTHING to talk about. **Wes made a multiple messy underlines beneath "nothing," while adding an intimidating glare to make his statement clear.

"If you say so…" He drawled off, not ready to give up just yet. Though, he knew Wes would only continue to avoid the subject, and toss it aside until he'd kill himself with it. So, he decided to drop the topic until another time. Maybe tomorrow's therapy session will help Wes open up a bit.

Wes knew the situation. Alex knew, the Captain knew, and Travis knew, but he wished no one knew. The memory was burned deeply into his mind, like an engraving on a piece of wood running inches in, the way in which damage couldn't be reversed. Nothing could fix it, and nothing could fill it, that was something Wes was sure of. He exhaled through thinly pressed lips, taking deep breaths through five second intervals.

It was something he would have to die with, and something he would have to live with.

If, he could live through it.

He straightened his body, spine pressed against the cushiony backing of the couch and felt his head lean forward, drooping downwards as he began to grow sleepy. There was nothing to watch, no cases to work on, though he itched to be doing something. He was only seconds away to walking towards the kitchen to cook, until Travis' phone buzzed, and Wes glanced over curiously from his drowsy state.

"Captain?" Travis asked after reading the I.D. "No way."

Wes looked up, eyes peeled open and quickly grabbed his notepad, scribbling in the big letters. **WHAT?**

"That's great!"

Wes pushed the notepad closer to his partner after receiving no response.

Travis looked over to Wes, skimming the four letter word briefly. "They got a match on the DNA."

**Tell him we'll be down there as soon as possible.**

With his hand pressed against the phone, Travis told Wes, "You're not well enough to be working cases."

**I think I know what I'm capable of.**

The stubborn look again.

The man knew if he didn't take his partner down to the station, Wes would figure out a way to get there himself. "Captain, we'll be there in 20 minutes." He hung up his phone before their superior could protest and stood from the couch. "Come, let's go princess."

To be continued.

* * *

**PREVIEW TO MONOPOLY MONEY  
**

AU! Wes Mitchell, youngest part-time detective, has been enrolled in a public high school, a place where he feels he doesn't belong. Travis Marks, one of the most popular kids in the school has been dared to date the loner of the century for amusement of the crowd, but unknowingly, falls for the mysterious boy.

Warnings: Abuse

Monopoly Money

Chapter 1 [PREVIEW]

Wes Mitchell grumbled as he felt a crumpled ball of aluminum thwack the back of his head, but he didn't bother to turn around. He sat in the center of the lunch room, and a radius of nothing formed around him, as if his presence had killed off everyone around him. Wes had only attended the school for less than a week, but the student body had already decided how they would play him in their little world.

The outcast.

Though, isolated, he could always feel the eyes of the students at the "popular" table stare at him with curiosity. It made him feel uncomfortable as he unwrapped his sandwich, taking a bite into sticky peanut butter.

Food was immediately snatched from his fingertips, and waved above his head, and he stared up with a cold glare. "Give it back Owen." He grumbled.

"Didn't think the queer would pay enough attention to my name during role call." The taller boy snickered. "What, you into me now?"

Wes wasn't going to play his game. He uncapped his water bottle, taking a swig before that was swatted out of his hands and stood up to leave the radius. His shoulder was pulled back and his body was immediately swung around. A thick fist connected to the corner of his eye, and he fell over, pressing his hand gently to his face.

"Get away from him!" Another voice screamed throughout the mess.

Wes looked up, surprised to see the only decent face in the whole school. Alex had warmed up to him the second he entered class when no one else would. It seemed that the student body had enough respect for their president to not bring her down to the treatment they gave Wes, but that was what everyone else feared. However, he did make a few acquaintances in his art class; the girls who knew Wes knew he wasn't the type to try and get under their skirts.

Owen immediately ceased his actions, and a few other teenagers from the in-crowd began to swarm through.

"I don't see why you defend him," Andrew bluntly proclaimed, hands crossed defensively across his chest.

"I heard he slept with the principal to get in cause other schools wouldn't accept him." Another one continued.

Alex made no comment to the levels of stupidity as she grabbed Wes softly by his arm and pulled him back up to his feet. "Travis call off your jerks."

"They're just having fun." Travis lied, trying to keep up a façade he held for so long. The only way to not be socially crushed was to make it to the top, and that was exactly what he did. But the glare Alex gave him made him bite back his tongue, and he quickly called off his boys.

"Let's get an ice-pack for that eye of yours." She whispered, but Wes pulled away the second he stood up.

"I don't need your pity." He spat, as he turned around and jolted out of the cafeteria as quickly as he could.

"Hope you're proud of yourselves. Owen, office." Alex hissed as she pulled the larger boy by his forearm, not caring if her untrimmed fingernails cut his skin.

Travis felt a pang of guilt as high-fives were passed around by his boys. He half-heartedly returned each one and stared off to the exit where Wes had run off to, wondering what the boy could be doing. He looked down, seeing that the blonde teenager had forgotten his backpack at the lunch table. Travis picked up the loner's belongings and decided he could possibly return it when he sees the kid in their classes.


	3. Chapter 3

Broken Glass

Chapter 3

*Note, **bold text** = **writing.**

The second Wes' foot touched the floor of the station, he immediately regretted tagging along with his partner. He could feel all the eyes burn into him, as everyone stared at the partners. Wes looked from shoulder to shoulder, averting his gaze with everyone who greeted Travis. Though, all that rang around him were friendly voices, his mind refused to interpret them as such.

"You okay?" Travis asked as he spun around.

Still in his daze, Wes bumped into his partner, stumbling backwards a bit before making eye contact. **Yeah, I'm fine.**

Once again, Travis had to let it go, and he flexed his fingers in frustration as they continued to move forward. The two never were the ones to confide in one another, and the lack of personal trust was becoming a vicious enemy to Travis. He led his partner towards their desks, and he felt a quick tug against the back of his leather jacket.

Turning around, Travis' face met the notepad. At first, it appeared blank, but Wes made a tapping to the lower right corner, and he saw a small scribble of writing.

**Does anyone else know?**

Travis shook his head. "We're not going to tell anyone who doesn't have to know, unless you want us to."

Wes nodded and blacked out the writing. The minute he sat at his desk, he ran a smooth hand over the surface of his table. It was still clean, but the supplies on his desk were at slants. He nit-picked at his things and began to straighten and align all of his materials. He exhaled heavily, aggravated when he couldn't seem to put his stapler at a right angle to his desk.

_Maybe- should move the stapler to the far corner, move the paperclips inside the desk drawer._

Travis watched blankly as his partner fumbled with every fine detail, then finishing off with a glob of hand sanitizer. He stuck his legs on top of his desk, and removed them promptly as a folder was suddenly slapped against his knees.

"Captain."

"Travis," Mike Sutton began with a disapproving frown, "I thought I gave Wes the day off," he continued in a mutter," I'd give him a week if he'd stick to it…"

"You know Wes." Travis sighed as he took the folder and opened it easily with haste. He spilled the contents around his desk and he slapped Wes' hand away as the other detective attempted to reach for the identification sheets.

The blonde gave another look, one that wasn't hard to read.

"Conflict of interest." Their captain stated firmly. "Wes, you are a very capable detective but I'm not sure you can handle this case right now."

With determination, Wes pulled out his notepad and wrote in dark letters. **I need this case.** He chewed his lower lip and slammed the bounded papers against his desk and reached over to grab parts of the files.

"Wes," Travis began, unsure how to approach the situation, "things like this can really mess someone up. I think it's best if you just leave this one to the department."

Wes ignored the words and continued to push himself into the case. There was no turning back now. As he reached up to the bio sheet, he stared at the photo. His eyes went wide and he skimmed through every detail, height, weight, eye color, skin type. No. They were all wrong.

He shook his head furiously, and tossed the sheets of paper towards Travis.

"What's wrong?"

Exasperated, Wes took his notepad and flipped to a clean, random page, writing with shaking hands and tightly clenched fingers. **Brown hair, 6' - 6' 1", green e**

_I'll make sure you'll never tell._

_Hell, I'll make sure you never speak again._

Wes flexed his hands and the notepad left his hands. His breathing became rugged as he heard whispers over his shoulders, and he turned around quickly. His captain walked over to his desk, and he watched with a glint of panic in his eyes as the notepad was lifted.

Mike flashed the notepad to Travis. "We have the wrong suspect."

"Wes, do you remember who it was?" Travis added quickly.

The blonde shook his head, swallowing thickly as he did. He spun around on his chair half way and stood up. The air suddenly felt dangerous to him, and everywhere he looked, faces seemed to only stare at him with disgust.

"Wes." Travis called out. He trailed behind his partner, who quickly strode through the maze of people.

He followed Wes as his partner walked into the restrooms, quick to turn on the facets and run sensitive hands under scorching waters. He could only stare in bewilderment, and he reached over to the facets to lower the water temperatures. "Wes," Travis spoke in a hushed tone, "don't do this to yourself."

Wes only looked away with gently closed eyes. He took slow breaths through his nose, but the tremors in his body were apparent. He ran a hand through his short hair and pressed his forehead to the cold mirror. He cautiously opened his eyes and looked into the reflection.

Grimly peering back at him was a different man, with the familiar sadistic smile. "You okay Wes?"

Wide eyed and his mouth slightly agape, Wes backed up in disbelief. _You're not real._

"Am I?"

_Stop it._

He looked over to his left. Travis was still there. He looked forward. That man was still there.

"Wes, are you alright?"

He turned to his left, Travis definitely said that.

"Did he?"

Wes looked forward.

"I'm still here, don't forget about me."

_No._

"Wes, what are you looking at?"

_No. You're not here._

Wes felt strong hands grip his shoulders firmly, and his whole body stiffened under the touch.

Travis turned the detective so that they were facing one another and Wes quickly pushed his gaze down, unwilling to look up.

"Look at me Wes." Travis hummed. "No one else is here but me, and I won't hurt you."

"He won't, but I will… unless you keep that pretty mouth of your's shut, _detective._"

Wes turned his head towards the mirror, but he felt his chin tipped back to lock eyes with his partner.

"No one else is here Wes. You're safe."

Wes nodded weakly, and Travis knew his words would only be effective temporarily. There had to be a way to help his partner through this. He couldn't stand seeing anyone he cared for hurt. As much as he and Wes may have not gotten along, he knew no one deserved to go through this; Wes of all people, definitely didn't deserve this. It was just wrong place wrong time.

He gave Wes's shoulder a comforting squeeze and broke out a sympathetic smile. "How about we go get a cup of coffee and we'll see what goes from there, okay man?"

Wes nodded approvingly.

"Great."


End file.
